The Message
by TARDIS Key
Summary: Someone is desperate to beam a message into outer space. But why? And to who? PLEASE REVIEW: if people like it, I'll carry on the story. :


Professor Morton slapped his colleague on the back, smiling from ear to ear.

"I do believe we've cracked it!"

"I don't believe it..." his assistant said, his eyes twinkling. Could it be? Could everything be over? All the hard work done, with just the rewards to be chased up now?

"Believe it, m'boy!" The Professor smiled, "Just as rules might be there to be broken, the stars outside are there to be reached."

He smiled a smile he never thought he'd feel, just allowing his eyes to bathe in the reflection of their combined work.

Ten years or research had been now reduced to an array of calculations and blurry scribbles on an aging blackboard. It stood proudly, tiredly in front of the pair - a physical embodiment of the time they had spent in Laboratory 5B; a seed that had blossomed their friendship. Sixteen computer screens were mounted to the wall; each one representing a satellite that was currently orbiting the earth.

"It's done! I can't believe it's done!" the assistant repeated, looking through the scribblings for some kind of mistake. "It's really done!"

"It's really done," Morton said. The assistant had grown into the son he was supposed to have with the wife that had long since left him. "And I couldn't have done it without you."

The tender moment was touching but instantly interrupted by four, sharp knocks on the door. A man, dressed in dark blue overalls, popped his head round the corner.

"Sorry, bad habit." he said, "Is this Laboratory 5B?"

"That's what it says on the door." the Assistant said, nodding at the door's plaque.

The man stepped in and produced a clipboard. "Ah, then I have a package for you."

He seemed momentarily distracted as he walked in; a look of awe washed over his features as he grinned and began to look at all the different computer screens.

"Just look at all this _stuff_!" the man said excitedly, wandering around and idly pressing buttons on keyboards.

"Oh!" Morton said, walking over to the man. "I will politely ask you to not press anything during your visit!"

"I'm sorry," the man replied, but he didn't look it. He stared at Morton for a moment, glaring, before he tapped the clipboard and smiled. "Which one of you is in charge here?"

"Me," The Professor said. "Do you need me to sign for anything?"

"Just this." The man pulled out a gun and fired it three times at the assistant.

"NO!' Morton shouted. The assistant blinked a few times, looked down at his wounds, then fell to the floor; blood pouring from his chest and mouth. Morton knelt down, cradling him and began to try and revive his fallen friend.

"It's pointless," the man said, "He's dead and if you don't want to end up the same way, you'll do as I say."

Morton looked up to see the gun pointed squarely at him. "What are you doing? What is this?"

The man took a step closer to him, his extended arm never wavering in aim. He was calm, collected, clearly a professional.

"I have a wife, children, years of research and a huge breakthrough this very morning! This very morning, do you hear me! Please! I beg, I am begging you. Don't kill me!" The Professor begged.

"I won't kill you providing you do exactly as I say."

"What is it that you want? Money? Research?"

"I want neither of those humans - you're obsessed with material things, aren't you? It's money that makes your world go around. I pity you, Professor. I was once like you, but now...no more. All I want is for you to deliver a message for me."

"A message?"

"A simple message. Transmit it on the highest frequency this station can handle, on every satellite you currently have in orbit. Do you understand?"

"What is all of this?"

"Do you understand?" The man said, pushing the gun into the Professor's bony chest.

"I understand. What...what's the message?"

"The message is: 'You are not alone'."

"What?"

"Just do it."

Morton sat down at the desk and signed into the system. All sixteen computer screens went blank for a moment, before each showed the same window. It was a small box with a flashing cursor. He typed YOU-ARE-NOT-ALONE, before sending the command. It would be everywhere in seconds; consuming the silence.

"What is this?" Morton asked again, "Who the hell are you?"

The man bent down and grinned at Morton; his eyes on fire with glee.

"My name is..._The Master_."

A gunshot rang out. The noise exploded around the room, before all that was left was the buzz of the computer monitors. The Master pushed Morton from the chair and sat down. The wait was nearly over.


End file.
